Israel’s Resurrection - Part 1

When we con­sider Ezekiel 37 in its overall context, its primary focus isn’t the resurrection of the dead, but the miracle of the restoration of Israel and the Jewish people. The theme is the return of Israel to its land and the people’s spiritual renewal.

I’d like to begin this topic with two men who lived at the same time and shared the same first name. One lived in Europe, and the other across the pond in the US. Both were Bible-believing Christians who were convinced the Jews would return to Israel (then Palestine) and Israel would be resurrected before Jesus returned.

The first man is William Hechler (1845–1931), who was born in India to an Anglican missionary. Hechler also became an Anglican minister in Europe and was firmly convinced, based on biblical prophecy, that Israel would be restored before Jesus’ return.

Hechler gained access to German nobility as a tutor at the court of the Grand Duke of Baden. He became a close friend of Theodor Herzl and encouraged him in his Zionist cause, since he also believed in Israel’s restoration. Hechler attempted to use his contacts to pave the way for Herzl to reach European royal families. He was able to bring the matter before Kaiser Wilhelm II, who in turn presented it to the Sultan of Constantinople. The Turkish ruler over Palestine at that time, however, showed no interest. Hechler remained at Herzl’s side until Herzl’s death in 1904. Once when Herzl had grown impatient, Hechler wrote to him:

“Remain calm, peaceful. Above, at the head of all things, is enthroned the One who directs everything according to His will, despite the ill will of weak men. Let us follow Him. I am spreading the message everywhere […] May God bless you.”

After their hopes for a Jewish homeland were dashed, Hechler sensed a few months before his death that Israel’s resurrection would come about through catastrophe. In a conversation, he told another ally, “A part of European Jewry will have to be sacrificed for the resurrection of your homeland…”

Although some of Hechler’s speculations went beyond the bounds of viability, his clear vision of Israel’s restoration, based on Holy Scripture, remains undisputed. He also had contact with the Chrischona Pilgrim Mission and was close to the Holiness Movement. It wasn’t until 2010 that his forgotten grave was rediscovered in London.

This brings us to William Blackstone (1841–1935), who was a successful businessman and a dedicated follower of Jesus. Blackstone financially supported the establishment of Moody Bible Institute and wrote the book Jesus Is Coming in 1878. He also founded the first mission for Jewish evangelism in the United States.

In 1890, he hosted a conference for Christians and Jews on Israel’s past, present, and future. He promoted a Zionism that would benefit both Jews and Arabs. Blackstone was also the co-founder and first dean of Biola University. Biola Magazine writes about him:

“Twenty-five years later, Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis called Blackstone ‘the father of Zionism,’ and asked him to reissue his 1891 petition—known as the ‘Blackstone Memorial’—to President Wilson because it was, in his view, the best expression of humanitarian compassion toward the persecuted Jewish refugees and their human rights claims for a secure national homeland.”

When the Zionist movement began, Blackstone sent Theodor Herzl a Bible in which he had marked all the prophetic passages about Israel. He too was buried in a modest grave. Without Reverend Blackstone’s lifelong efforts to foster political support and prophetic understanding of dispensationalism and restoration in the US, American support for Zionism and the State of Israel might have looked very different. He was prominent in his lifetime, but later fell into obscurity.

Both Williams independently believed in the literal fulfillment of biblical prophecy, and in the gathering together and resurrection of Israel, even though the first Zionist Congress (Basel, 1897) hadn’t yet taken place.

This brings us to our main topic: Israel’s resurrection and salvation. But first, Ezekiel describes…

A BLEAK SITUATION

In Ezekiel 6 and 36, the prophet is commissioned to speak to Israel’s mountains. Chapter 6 is concerned with the coming judgment, while chapter 36 is concerned with Israel’s future salvation. In chapter 37, Ezekiel is led to a valley in spirit. The valley is a desolate sight, filled with bleached bones. We’ll revisit that shortly, but first, an observation on the context.

As I’ve mentioned, Israel’s mountains (Ezek 36) and the valley (Ezek 37) relate to Israel’s restoration. Chapters 38 and 39 then mention Gog of Magog, and how God’s judgment will fall on the mountains and valleys of restored Israel. The mountains of Israel and the valley are initially witnesses to the scene of God’s judgment on His chosen people. But after Israel is resurrected, in connection with its salvation, they become the places of judgment for the enemies of God’s people.

Now we’ll consider the vast valley floor full of dried bones. To a Jew, a place where unburied bones lie would be associated with impurity. Various commentators have pointed out that these dried bones resemble a battlefield, or even the remains of a lost battle. This makes the situation in Ezekiel’s day concrete: The Babylonians had destroyed and devastated the Southern Kingdom (Judah). Death and terror spread, and many people were taken to Babylon as captives. Numerous Israelites died on the long, arduous march through the desert. But that’s not all.

Ezekiel is told in verse 11 that the dry bones symbolize the entire house of Israel, and that their hope is completely lost. So, this doesn’t just concern Judah in Ezekiel’s day. The Northern Kingdom had already been deported by the Assyrians more than 100 years prior. Even though Judah’s return from Babylonian captivity brought new hope, and Israel was in existence again in New Testament times (albeit under Roman rule), the fresh diaspora of 70 AD marked the beginning of a long period of suffering for the Jewish people.

From 67–70 AD alone, over a million people died during the Roman siege and conquest of Jerusalem. In addition, there were numerous other victims in the Jewish-Roman war.

When Emperor Hadrian crushed the Bar Kokhba Revolt in 135 AD, over half a million additional Jews were killed. Hundreds of thousands more died in the subsequent repression. Werner Keller wrote of this:

“The land of Israel presented a ghostly aspect after the war was over. It was totally devastated and almost depopulated. The smell of death and decay poisoned the air. The Romans had forbidden burial of the dead; the sight of corpses was to serve as a warning to what remained of the population. All the cities, towns, and villages that had offered resistance lay in ashes. In Galilee, formerly covered with olive groves and vineyards, scarcely an olive tree or a vine was left. For the second time since the fearful losses of the Jewish War, the remnants of the population in the country had been nearly wiped out. Captured rebels, with their women and children, had been sold by the Romans at the slave market by Abraham’s terebinth at Mamre and in the market in Gaza. Many others had fled to Egypt. For months after the cessation of resistance Roman squads continued to hunt down fugitives and stragglers from the Jewish forces who had taken refuge in caves.”

From then on, a sad thread runs through the history of the Middle East and Europe. Wherever the Jews went over the centuries, they repeatedly fell victim to pogroms, persecution, and mass murders. It should not be forgotten that Europe’s history had already been characterized by cruel anti-Judaism long before National Socialism arose. Persecution also occurred in North Africa, and oppression by the Catholic Church shouldn’t be underestimated either.

Thus, a trail of expulsion and homelessness runs through the history of the entire house of Israel. Time and again this people were harassed, persecuted, and expelled. Seen in this light, verse 11 takes on even greater significance:

“Our bones are dried, and our hope is lost: we are cut off for our parts” (Ezek 37:11b).

Fast forward to January 5, 1895. On the parade ground of the École Militaire in Paris, a French officer is ceremoniously stripped of his rank insignia and his sword broken in a drastic gesture. The angry crowd that had assembled shouted anti-Semitic slogans. Jewish Captain Alfred Dreyfus was accused of having revealed secret plans to Germany. The argument: Only a Jew could commit such an abominable act of treason. He was convicted and deported to Devil’s Island following a scandalous trial. Only years later was Dreyfus vindicated when his innocence was proven.

A young correspondent for a Viennese newspaper was among the observers of Dreyfus’s trial. The young man was half-Jewish himself, and the unjust verdict haunted him. He began to reflect on his people scattered throughout the world. They had no homeland, no state to represent and defend their interests. And so, this Viennese journalist, Theodor Herzl, wrote his famous pamphlet The Jewish State, thus becoming the founder of Zionism.

But anti-Judaism continued to flare up in Europe until the National Socialist movement came to power in Germany. Hitler pursued the goal of exterminating every Jew. In a satanic distortion of the biblical plan of salvation, he was convinced that a new paradise on earth could only arise when the archnemesis—the Jew—was defeated.

The hope awakened by the first waves of returning Jewish pioneers was brutally overwhelmed by the Shoah—the catastrophe of the Holocaust. Over six million Jews were gruesomely murdered, while the British Empire simultaneously severely reduced Jewish immigration to Palestine.

A largely unknown aspect of this period is illuminated by the 2022 book A Different War [unavailable in English], by Israeli historian Dan Diner. In it, he examines the developments of WWII from the perspective of Jews in Israel, still known as Palestine at that time.

Diner makes it clear that the German Wehrmacht was preparing a pincer movement around Palestine via North Africa and the Caucasus. The German Afrika Korps were only about 230 km (142 mi.) from Cairo, and by August of 1942, the flag of Nazi Germany was already flying atop the highest mountain in the Caucasus. At that time, no one could have known that the tide was turning in favor of the Allies in the battles of El Alamein and Stalingrad.

At the time, Haganah (the Jewish underground army) leadership was debating whether more than 100,000 Jews should retreat to the Carmel mountain range to face the advancing Germans in a final, heroic battle—similar to the defenders of Masada in 70 AD. The Irgun underground fighters were also considering assembling 1,000 men in Jerusalem’s Old City, to offer fierce resistance to the Germans for two months.

All hope seemed lost for the entire house of Israel.

GOD’S POWERFUL MONOLOGUES

In view of the vast valley of dead bones, the Lord asks Ezekiel a question: Can these bones come back to life? The prophet is addressed as “Son of man,” a title that appears roughly 100 times in this book. It highlights the enormous difference between the living God and mankind—a fact that we often take for granted today.

“And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bones live?” (Ezek 37:3a). Unlike hasty enthusiasts who might have exclaimed, “Of course you can do it!” or, “I’ll manage it if I pray hard enough!,” Ezekiel answers in a different way. His words show that he is aware of the untold difference between himself as the Son of man and the almighty God of Israel: “O Lord GOD, thou knowest.” This response expresses both complete trust in God and complete submission to His plan and will. It’s not foolish gushing, but a humble acknowledgment of God’s rule and sovereignty.

Ezekiel is then commissioned to prophesy over the bones. His prophecy contains several dimensions. First, the creative and effective power of God’s Word is revealed. The living God speaks—just as in the Creation account—and the impossible happens: Scattered bones come together, flesh and sinews grow on them, and finally, God breathes His life into them. There is a clear parallel to the Creation account.

The resurrection of the dead is a closely related theme. Some commentators see this chapter as an Old Testament passage on resurrection, and it does indeed have some parallels. But when we consider the passage in its overall context, its primary focus isn’t the resurrection of the dead, but the miracle of the restoration of Israel and the Jewish people. This is particularly clear in verses 13 and 14. The theme is the return of Israel to its land and the people’s spiritual renewal.

When the bones assemble in verse 7, the action is accompanied by a loud noise and roar—another sign of God’s power at work. This could relate to the action of God’s Spirit. Interestingly, however, the second prophecy in verses 9-10 makes no mention of any noise when the breath of life is breathed in. Some translations even liken the rattling of the bones in verse 7 to an earthquake. This raises the question of whether this might be the foreshadowing of a massive, devastating event connected to the resurrection of the State and people of Israel.